Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOL. 2. Rail Road Sons. Written for the Georgia Citizen, BY T. H. CIIIVERS, M. D. ’ • All aboard ! Yes!—Tingle, tingle, Goes the bell as we all mingle— Ko one sitting solely single— As the steam begins to fizzle With a kind of sighing sizzle— Ending in a piercing whistle— As the Fireman builds his fire, And the steam gets higher, higher— Thus fulfilling his desire— Which forever he keeps feeding With the pine-knots he is needing, As lie on his way goes speeding— Till the Iron Horse goes rushing, With his fiery face all flushitfg— Every thing before him crushing— While the smoke goes upward curling, .Spark-bespangled in unfurling, And the iron wheels go whirling, like two mighty millstones grinding, When no Miller is them minding— All the eye with grit-dust blinding^-’ And the cars begin to rattle, And the springs go tittle—tattle— Driving off the grazing cattle— As if Death were Hell pursuing To his uttermost undoing, Down the iron road to ruin— With a elitta, clatta, clatter, Like the Devil beating batter Up in Hell, in iron platter, As if something was the matter ; Then it changes to a clanking, And a clinking, and u clanking, And a clanking, and a clinking— Then returns to clatta, clatta, Like the Devil beating batter Up in Hell, in iron platter; And the Song that 1 n u w offer For Apollo's Golden Coffer — With the friendship that I proffer— Is for riding on a Kail. 2. Thus, from Station on to Station, Right along through each Plantation, As if Hell, for our damnation, Had come down with Desolation— y This great Iron Horse goes rushing, With his fiery face all flushing— Every thing before him crushing, Sometimes fester, sometimes slower— Sometimes higher, sometimes lower— As if Time, the great World mower, Had come down for his last reaping .Of tho Nations waiting, weeping— While, the Engine, overteeming, With excruciating screaming, Spits his vengeance out in steaming, While the wheels are whirling under, Like the Chariot wheels of Thunder, When the Lightning rends asunder All the clouds thaisttam from Ocean, When he pays the Moon devotion— With a grinding rhythmic motion— Till the frightened Sheep arc scattered, Like the clouds by Lightning tattered, And the Gates of God are battered With the elitta, clatta, clatter, Like the Devil beating batter Up in Hell, in iron platter— Still repeating elitta, clatter, Clitta, clatta, elitta, clatter, As if something was the matter—^ While the Woodlands all are ringing, And the Birds forget their singing, And away to Heaven go winging Os their flight to hear the clatter, Clitta, clatta, clatta, clatter, Like the Devil beating batter Up in Hell, in iron platter— Which continues so, till coining To a straight line, when the humming Is so mixed up with the drumming, That the Cars begin to rattle And the springs go tittle tattle— Frightening off the grazing cattle — Like Hell’s thunder-river roaring. Over Death's dark Mountain pouring Into space, forever boring Through th’ abysmal depths, with clatter, Clitta, clatta, clatta, clatter, Like the Devil beating batter Up in Hell in iron platter— Then expands into a clanking, And a clinking, and a clanking, And a clanking, and a clinking— Then returns to clatta, clatter, AT-htta, clatta, clatta, clatter, Like the Devil beating batter Up in Hell in iron platter— Which subsides into a elahky, And a clanky, clanky, clanky, And a clinky, and a clanky ; Then returns again to fizzle, With a kind of sighing sizzle— Ending in a piercing whistle— And the Song that I now offer For Apollo’s Golden Coffer— With the friendship that I proffer— Is for riding on a Rail. From the Louisvills Journal. The Surviving Heroes of the Revolu tion to the Disunionists. [These lines were suggested by the following occur rence : A company of disunionists, in one of the South ern States, being on their way to a convention, over took a revolutionary soldier, with whom they entered into conversation, On his inquiring their destination, they said : s We are going to a convention which is todevise some means for dissolving the Union.” The old mau shook his head sorrowfully and replied, “wait a little while till I am dead !’’] Not while our eyes behold The goodly land for which in youth we bled, Re its fair field with ruin overspread— W e are but few and old And soon to slumber with the nameless dead. Then oh, a while delay, To strike the fatal and the traitorous blow hich lays for aye our gallant eagle low, Till we have passed away, seen, with dimming eyes, our country’s woe. If Him ye tire of peaoe And the rare gifts that glorious eagle brings ’loall our land, beneath his outspread wings, Bid the blest Union cease, hile deep the kneil for murdered freedom rings ? Rut ere beneath the rage Fparricides our native country bleeds, Riot out the record of our early deeds, Lest happily that fair page, ith brutal scorn, some future tyrant reads. Though it to heaven aspires, Rreak down each pile of monumental stones, towering form of marble and of bronze— Lest statues of the sires L.'jslt for the deeds of their degenerate sons * Give to devouring flame The painter’s canvass and the poet’s verse, Which proudly did our gallant deeds rehearse, Let not our blood-bought fame Become a jest, a by word, and a curse. When madly ye’ve destroyed The noble work won by our youthful glaves, leaves us to sleep in unremembered graves — Be not our dust annoyed By the vile honors of ungrateful slaves ! Gallatin , Tenn., 1851. The Rich Man. BY J. W. WHITFIELD. The Rich Man thinks his gold his own, And all his gold can bring ; The Rich Man thinks, when thus he thinks, Avery foolish thing. lie builds a palace, beautiful; The graceful columns rise, And while he thinks them all his own, They glad a thousand eyes. He spreads his floral garden round— The roses bud and bloom ; But with himself we all enjoy Their beauty and perfume. Ilis noble chargers paw and prance— The Rich Man’s heart is proud ; He sees them with one pair of eyes, But thousands have the crowd. Ilis parlor walls are loaded down With gems of art —to please Himself, he thinks—to please, in truth, The poorest man that sees. The stately hall, the cultur’d grove — The park with pebbled way — The leaping font that sweetly sings, For these he has to pay. And pay that other eyes may gaze And feast without a care; The joy is ours—the task his own To please them and prepare. Brooklyn, April, 1851. A true American Girl.—.l find the follow, ing in the columns of the Memphis (Tenn.) Enquirer, and copy it to show ol what stufl’our American girls are made. AM odel of a WoMAN.-Some time since a man residing a short distance from the city, ‘shuffled off this mortal coil,’ leaving a wife and three daughters apparently helpless and penniless, upon the world. In this emergency the eldest daughter about sixteen years of age —what Burns calls a a ‘bonnie’ sweet, and bonnie lass, —a whole arm full of health, virtue and rural beauty—resolved to make an etlbrt for the support of her mother and sisters. A warm-hearted neighbor offered her, at her own solicitation, 75 cents per cord for cut ting wood, being an advance of 2b cents on the usual price for such employment-.,commonly considered ihe most laborious even for the sterner sex. Nothing daunted, however, our heroine commenced operations, and by dint of application and economy, in a short time man aged to save enough from her earnings to buy her a wagon and team. She is now seen selling wood in our streets, and unloading as actively as any wood carrier who drives to our city—-pitching out the logs with her own fair hands. We cordially commend this lady —for such she is in reality—to speh of our bachelor friends as are matrimonially inclined. We care not in what rank of ljfe such a wo man may be found, she is a treasure, In the midst of poverty, toil and want, her virtue is unimpeachable, and she has only sought by unwonted labor to support herself and relatives by the toil of her own hands. Had not our heart another shrine which claims its homage, we know not that this moral heroine.—this Joan of Arc of the affections—might not tempt us to violate Mr. Norton’s oft-repeflted injunc tion to ‘love not.’ As it is, we advise our bachelor friends to ‘pay attention’ to our ‘wood,’ not the ‘flower’ ‘girl.’ What a llod-man can do. —Many people turn up their noses at what they call ‘dirty work,’ although all honest labor was not cleaner than many kid glove ways of swindling one’s way through the world. Rather than owe our living to the latter, we would infinitely pre fer to shake carpets or sweep chimneys at fifty cents per day. A day or two since we learned an instructive bit of history touching a doer of ‘dirty work’—a hod man. No matter where he was born, he was none of the worse for being a Turkman or an Irishman. lie cane to this city about ten years ago, young, healthy, and honest, lie could get no employment but hod carrying. and he carried so well as to earn at once his dollar a day. He procured cheap but good lodgings ; spent none of his money ip groggeries or low places ; attended church on the Sabbath ; educated himself qii evenings ; laid up money ; and at the ep.d qf five years bought a lot in the city, and built a pretty cottage. In one year more he found a good wife, and used the cot tage he had before rented out. For these six years he had steadily carried his hod- He was a noted worker, an acknowledged scholar, and a noble pattern of a man. On the opening of the eighth year his talents and integ rity were called to a more profitable account. He em barked as a partner in a professional busiuess already well established. This day he is worth at least SIOO,- 000, has a lovely wife and two beautiful children, a home that is the centre of a brilliant, social and intellec tual circle, and be is one of the happiest and most hon ored of men as far as he is known. So much has come of a hod-man.— New Yorker. From the Greenville Southern Patriot. The Hampton Massacre. —In our route to Spar tanburg Court House the other day, we passed near by where occurred in the Revolutionary war a bloody massacre. The bodies of General Wade Hampton's father, mother and brothers lie buried in Spartanburg District, ca the waters of the Tyger river, where they were most treacherously niurdeJed by the Cherokee Indians at the commencement of the Revolutionary war. Anthony Hampton, the father, with his wife and daugh ter, Mrs. James Harrison, and his sous, Preston, Hen ry and Edward, moved to Spartanburg District about the year 1774. At the commencement of the troubles between tho Colonies and the mother country, it was a matter of deep concern to the inhabitants on the fron tiers of South Carolina, tfiat the Cherokee Indians should not engage in the war. In order to secure their peace, Preston and Henry Hampton made them a visit and formed an acquaintance with their chiefs and head men. But they had already been seduced by the Brit ish Government, and about the time that llenry Clin ten and Sir Peter Parker made their attack on Charles ton, they commenced their incursions on the frontiers of the State. The Indians approached Mr.‘Hampton's house and some of tire head men were recognized by Preston Hampton. As he extended so them the hand pf friend “ !Mrjienfrfnt in nlf tilings- —leutrnl in notijing.” MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 21, 1851. ship they slew him to the ground, and immediately af terwards they killed Mr. Anthony Hampton, his wife and a little grand child, the infant of Mrs. James Har rison. A lad, by the name of John Bynum, was taken by the Indians from Mr. Hampton's and adopted as their son. lie remained many years with them, and was afterwards restored under the treaty of 1777. Immediately after this massacre, Col. Williamson raised a large body of militia and marched into the Cherokee Nation and destroyed a large number of their towns and settlements, llenry Hampton killed, with his own hand, an Indian warrior who had his brother Preston Hampton’s coat on in the engagement. Ed ward Hampton, at the time of the massacre, was at Ray lis Earle’s on Packolet, whose daughter he married. In this way he escaped the massacre, but was himself af terwards shot by the ‘‘bloody scout” in his own house. Edward Hampton ivasa bold cavalier, and one of the best horsemen of his age in South Carolina. Generajp Wade Hampton was, at this time in North Carolina. Famine in India. —A British writer, recently re marking on the honors which sometimes attend Chris tain rule in Pagan lands, sketches the following graphic but fearful picture : “Turn your eyes backward upon the scenes of the past year. Go with me into the northwest Provinces of the Bengal presidency, and I will show you the bleached skeletons of five hundred thousand human be ings who perished of hunger in the space of a few short months. Yes, died of hunger, in what has been justly called the granary of the world. The air, for miles, was poisoned with the effluvia emitted from the putrifying bodies of the dead. The rivers were choked with the corpses thrown into their channels. Mothers cast their little ones beneath the rolling waves, because they would not see them draw their last grasp, and feel them stiffen in their arms. Jackals and vultures approach and fasten upon the bodies of men before life was extinct. Madness, disease and despair stalked abroad, and no human power present to arrest their progress. ‘‘And this occurred in British India, in the reign of Victoria the First. Nor was this event extraordinary or unforseen. Far from it. Eighteen hundred and thirty five witnessed a famine in the northern provinces. Eighteen hundred and twenty two saw one in the De ccan. They have continued to increase in frequency and extent under our sway for more than half a century. Under the administration of Lord Clive, a famine in the Bengal provinces swept off three millions ! —and, at that time, the British speculators in India had their granaries tilled to repletion with corn ! Horrid mo nopoly of the necessaries of life ! Three millions died, while there was food enough to spare, locked up in the storehouses of the rich. To add to the horror with which we are now called to regard the last dreadful carnage—(that of last year)—we are made acquainted, by the returns of the custom house, with the fact that as much grain has been exported from the lower parts of Bengal, as would have fed tlie half milliun who per ished, for whole year!” Free, glorious, anti-slavery England ! “ slavescanuot breathe in England!” says the flunkey poet of British abominations. It seems that the boast is even truer of British India than of the home island itself. Give rs Goon Bread!— ln another column will be found the advertisement of the “Montgomery Mills.’’ So far as our observation extends, the fact therein set forth are facts. We are “at home’’ on tho subject of this flour, and can assure those (very few hereabouts ) who have not experimentally received the information that the ‘‘Montgomery Mills” flour is of the best possi ble quality. On any other subject we might venture a hasty opinion, but on the /lour the “female wimmin” of this vicinage know their fights and wouldn't allow the least humbugging. They know Winter’s brand : and it appears the ladies do down below, as is evidenced by the following from the “ Metropolite,” the graceful little literary conducted by the young ladies of the Rev. A. A. Lipscombe’s Female Institute, at Montgomery, Montgomery Flour. —We take pleasure in pub lishing the annexed letter, as well ns in bearing our testimony to the remarkable excellence of the flour which was so kindly sent us. We have tested it, and pronounce it exceedingly fine. Our ladies (and tliCy are a host) endorse our views, and commend it to all tables that wish to be supplied with an excellent article of light bread and rolls. We beg leave from our hill top to shake hands with our worthy neighbors down near the river, and to assure them that they are just to our taste and liking in this matter. Such Flour is Flour as is Flour, and such a mill is a mill, and Such manufac turers are gentlemen ! If everything else go wrong, do let us have good flour and good water ; and if there be any truth in the old Pythagorean doctrine, that men partake of the nature of things they eat, we will ven ture to say that the thoughts and manners of divers numbers will be blest by the use of friend Moody’s flour.— Chambers Tribune. True Words. —When a man of sense, no matter how humble his origin, or degraded his occupation may appear in the eyes of the vain and the foolish, is treated with contempt, he will soon forget it; but he will be sure to put forth all his energies ta raise himself above those who looked down in scorn upon him. By shun niqg tl}e mechanic, wo exert an influence derogatory to honest labor, and make it unfashionable for young men to learn trades,.or labor for their support. Did our young women realize that for all they posses? they are indebted to t’,ie mechanic, it would be their desire to elevate him, and to encourage his visits to their society, while they would treat with scorn, the lazy, fashionable, tho sponger, and the well dressed pauper. On looking back a few years, our most fastidious ladies can trace their genealogy from some humble mechanic, who, per haps, in their day, were sneered at by the proud and foolish, while their grandmothers gladly received them to their bosoms. — John Nral. The Crj t stal Palace Beaten. —Dr. Duff, in his speech at the anniversary meeting of the Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society in London, on Monday, thus described one of the heathen temples of India: “In Scringhatn, you have the hugest temple that can probably be found from the north to the south pole. It is square, each side being a mile in length, so that it is four miles round. Talk of your Crystal Palace ! Why, as a man would put a penny into his pocket, you might put your Crystal Palace into the pocket of this huge pagoda. The walls are 25 feet high and 4 or 5 feet thick, and in the centre of each wall rise a lofty tower. Entering the first square you come to another, with a wall as high, and within that again another—and you find seven squares, one within another, crowded by thousands of Brahmins. The great hall for prilgrims is supported by a thousand pillars, each cut out of a sin gle block of stone.” A Minnesota Wag.— The Minnesota Pioneer of the Ist of May, thus hint*) at the approach cf spring : “Armies of thin, feeble mosquitoes begin to make their appearance. All the indulgence we crave of them is, that they will be as alow in settling their bills as Secretary Smith is.” This is the most appropriate out we have seen for some time, the Secretary owes him for State printing and makes no exertion to pay it. This is a common fault with public officers- -particularly in regard to the Frets, | and with the Press it is most inexcusable, for there is no one needs an earlier return of money expended, than the publisher, and none labor more ineessantly for the public weal than he ; and since the State and Govern ment officers do not pay the money from their own pur ses, the strings should be loosened at once and the interests promptly paid. When we sec such bright scin tillations of wit lavished occasionally upon public delin quents, we can but smile at its propriety, and say “poke fun at them till they sue for quarters.”— V. Whig. Needle Manufactory. —Tho Newark Advertiser says the only needle manufactory in this country is in that city—established by a gentleman from Manchester, England. The manner of making needles is described as very interesting—some sixteen different processes teeing necessary far their compleiW.n. The wire from which they are made, is jmportvV from England. It is cut into lengths sufficient for Sf o needles each, and after being rubbed straight, they are pointed upon a stone at the rate of one hundred per minute. They are then stamped with impressions preparatory for the eyes, which are punched by a press at the rate of fifty a minute, and then strung upon wires and placed in another machine to be filed and fashioned into the forms of needles. The hardening is now done by a hot fur nace, and they are aftei wards tempered, straightened and gathered into bunches of about 50,000 each, which are saturated with oil and emery, tied in a cloth and placed in a trough with a heavy plank moving back ward and forward over them so that after some nine days’ chafing in this manner, they are relieved of im perfections and rendered smooth enough for tho final polishing. The temper is then taken out of the eyes, and they are drilled to prevent their cutting the thread. (Writtenfor the Georgia Citizen.) Odds and Ends. BY JOE, A JERSEY MUTE. The strangest thing of the day is the recent arrest of Jenny Lind, on suspicion of having defrauded a manager of a theatre at Baltimore. Lind could not have condescended to do injury inthecase. Good heav ens! what kind of a man is the fellow who suspected the angelic Lind ? A rich lady rejected her lover, who was a man of the most irreproachable character, because, as she said, he was a low mechanic. Labor is no crime. Talented journalists fare worse than others whose knowledge extends no further than the A B C of our language. Dr. William Elder, one of the most brill iant orators of the country, tried to establish a daily Newspaper at Philadelphia, but he failed. And so of the late gifted Edgar A. Poe. Mrs. Bloomer, Editor of the Lily, a monthly print ed at Seneca Falls, N. Y., adopts the short dress and trowsers, and tries to induce other feminines to follow her example. A fair skinned girl I wot of, delights in the society of dark-complexioned men. She is only fifteen years of age. Dancing is condemned by some people as being im moral in its tendencies. It is an innocent amusement, audit gives lightness of foot and grace.of gait to those who practice it. Some men declare that anii * .jU-Jsflin. But the Bible says that they have no sequently, they cannot reasoi* nonsense to dispute the trutli of the Bible. - . Public speaking is practiced by some women now-a days. The Bible, which was written expressly for the regulation of our conduct in all relations of life, pro tests against public speaking by women. It does not become the daughters of fallen Eve to speak in pub lic. Many men marry early, and without considering the responsibilities of matrimony. They generally find too late that they have paid too much for the whistle. Oil the other hand, the opinion prevails throughout Christen dom, that it is right to lay aside those little fondnesses which constitute the secrets of courtship, as soon as man and woman make “ twain one flesh. ’’ The en dearments of courtship ought, however, to bo contin ued after marriage, and without cessation until death. The nature of woman is the essence of love, and it re quires nourishment in the same manner as the digest ive apparatus. Gentle reader, did you ever go to Pecklesstown, N. J. ? If you did, you must certainly have observed two splendid palaces there. They stand at a distance of about half a mile from each other, and the grounds sur rounding each are laid out in a style of Oriental mag nificence. One of those elegant edifices has a sort of an Observatory on its roof, and the other has none. — The former is inhabited by Mr. Peter Brown, and the latter is unoccupied, its former proprietor and oceupant having died a few years ago. lie was the brother of Mr. Peter Brown. A few feet South of Peter’s palace stands a plain but neat frame house, at which his sister reigns sole and undisputed mistress. Peter’s youngest brother resides at Moput Ilolly, wantoning in the ex travagance of wealth.’ Their other sister lives in a handsome house in that town. This entire family re joices in what is called “ single blessedness ; ” and there is every prospect of their remaining in that state until death. Air. Peter Brqwn is a great favorite of the gentle-folks, and declares he takes delight in noth ing so much as in receiving guests Hud giving suppers. He is a clever fellow personally, but it) the business ac ceptation qf the term, he is anything'fcisc. lie pays little regard to the interests of his tenants, of whom he has a large number. His brother who, as I have said, died a few years back, was a lawyer, and was distin guished for his extensive legal and literacy attainments. Affable, generous, and a warm-hearted friend, his loss was sensibly felt by a large circle of acquaintances, and many a tear was dropped over his grave, expres sive of sorrow fur his death. Miss Brown, who lives South of her brother Peter's mansion, picks up preach ers wherever she finds them, and entertains them un der her own roof. Strange as this may appear, it is nevertheless strictly true. Miss Brown, an old maid worth millions, seeking out and feeding unpretending ministers of the Gospel—how strange! She seems averse to marriage, ller sister in Mount Holly is foil 1 of a ride, and may be seen daily riding on horseback or in conveyance, in company with her father, who is quite an old man. Her modesty and propriety of de meanor is the topic of town gossip. Her youngest brother, (of whom mention has been made,) is a handsome man, well educated, and conversant with the rules of etiquette. Speak to him, and he will tell many anecdotes “ too good to bo lost. ” Ills eye spar kles with unusual brilliancy when he speaks under the impulse of the moment, lie is said, and I believe it to be true, to be of an amiable disposition. Bachelors and maids, generally speaking, are good natured “ bo dies.” They have the power to do what they please, and tc go where they please. “’Tis Grease! but Living Grf.ase no Morf. !”—The Buffalo Courier gives an amus ing account of a gentleman who mounted a bar rel of lard to hear and see, on the arrival of the Mayflower, with the President and suite, on Friday. Just as he was listening with great unction to the speeches, the barrel head gave way find he slid easily and noiselessly up to his “third button” in the “great staple of Ohio” exclaimingL a r and have mercy on I us!’’ Written for the Georgia Citizen. THE SILVER CLOID, OR JUAN DE LEON’S BRIDE. A Tulc of the early settlement of Florida. BY MISS C. W. BARBER. The moonbeams danced merrily upon the silvery waters of the Guadalquiver. Thick clus ters of olive trees stood upon its banks, and back of these, there slept the shadow of an old turreted built perhaps a century before the coi*e*icement of our story; at least its ap peara^,! that such might be its age. Ih< pj[pows were narrow, deep set and gloomy re>ne walls, where they were not over go ,vn with moss, were stained and discolored by time, and even the enclosures surrounding it, were dark hued and mouldy. But although the building was so gloomy in its external ap pearance, the interior was furnished with all the luxurious appendages that were ever found in the castles of noblemen, at the end of the sis teenth century, in Spain. Alabaster lamps were suspended from the ceiling, by means of small silver chains, and all through the night they shed abroad their soft and starry radiance. The floors were covered with thick and richly dyed carpets, of Turkish manufacture, rare at that time in any part of Europe, and the sides of the rooms were glittering with massive mir rors. On a richly covered seat, by one of the w in dows, there reposed the light and graceful form of a Spanish girl. Her hair was parted plain ly back from her high intellectual forehead —a robe of velvet loosely enshrouded her form, and one tiny white hand hung carelessly over the arm of her chair, while with the other she traced the lines and boundaries of a map on her knee. Her face was pale and interesting, if not beau tiful : her eyes especially, now fixed so earnest upon the chart before her, and full of thought, w ere, w hen she was roused to animation, flash ing and brilliant. She was alone or nearly so. A Moorish girl had in the early part of the night, been seated at her feet; but she had now fallen asleep, and save her deep breathing, not a sound was heard in the castle. Now and then the rippling of the Gaudalquiver was heard stealing through the open casement, but the student over the map neither raised her head to listen, nor gave token by any movement, save by that of her hand, that she was animated by life. At length sire moved and muinured some inarticulate sentence to herself—the map drop ped from her knee, and her large black eyes looked up through the window, with a vague, dreamy expression in them, which told plainly that her thoughts were far away. “It must be decided !” at length she said, ‘1 have already tampered with him too long, ‘Die#,’ or LVo,’ must seal the meditations of to night, and that decision! O, how much it has to do with the happiness, or unhappiness of my future life! It is the pivot upon which will turn my earthly destiny. Would that the Ho ly Mother of Jesus would guide me aright!’ and with this exclamation, she again lifted the map to her knee, and traced line after line of the mystic pencilling. ‘Here,’ said she as she rested her finger on the chart, ‘here, he tells me is probably the fountain, w hose w aters have the property of restoring youth. The Indians, those cope red colored, mysterious creatures found in the New World, have assured him again and again of its existence. Once found, and I’once De Loon secures immortal youth fulness. That brow, so noble, yet deeply fur rowed w ith age will become smooth and beauti ful after having beeji washed in that fountain, lie is my senior by many years, and yet to me does not seem old—there is no voice so deep toned and manly—none w hose loud whisper steals so like music to my heart, qs his. I was a mere child when I went with my father to wit ness the gorgeous fetes, w ith which our beloved sovereigns, Ferdinand and Isbella, cboseto wel come Columbus, on his return from his first voy age to the New World. The ringing of the bells —the gay crowds in the streets —the In dians with their dusky faces and feathery heads —the processions of magistrates who w elcomed him as he advanced towards Barcelona, and the reverence done him by the King and Queen —these scenes vividly impressed my mind, and inspired me with a love and spirit of adven ture. I remember then seeing for the first time, l’once De Leon. He walked close by the great discoverer’s side-his cheek was flushed w ith ex citement—his eye flashed in its pride, and his graceful plqme nodded over his brow. I thought him more than mortal. Others praised tiie form and features of Columbus—some ran af ter the Indians, and others pointed to the bask ets of blqshing fruits—productions of the New World, which they carried upon their heads, but I saw but owe face—heard but one voice— was hardly conscious of the presence of any save one. It is strange that I—child as l was —should have been thus impressed. I remem ber now how coldly, calmly his dark eye v.qu dered once over my face that day’ Ilis eye saw me, but I made no impress on his brain or heart. It rested on me, a child, and still it saw me not. I was standing close beside my father, and I shrunk involuntarily from that un conscious glance; I could not bear, even then, to be as nothing to him ; something seemed to w hisper my heart, that one day I should climb to his love—one day that eye should seek me amid the crowd, and darken with disappoint ment if it saw me not. Was the spirit of pro phecy upon me ? I almost believe it. Now he loves me. I read it in every glance of his eye in every motion of his hands—in every thing connected with him, months before he told me so in words. Years have passed away since I first met him—years in which l have budded into beautiful womanhood and in which he has grown hoary in the service of his country. \et I love him still. I cannot help it. What a mys terious thing is the human heart! I love him well enough tq almost resi gnife, if necessary for his sake. During the long voyages in which lie has been absent with Columbus, my mind has dwelt continually upon his image. It has been the prompting motive to every act in my life. If mv teachers taught me music, I learned to mock them like a bird that I might charm him on his return. I guided the pencil with skill, for something w hispered me—some day you may be wanted in drawing maps and charts for him ! I danced with grace, for I knew by his own proud and haughty bearing that poetry of mo tion was his delight. None in the convent where I was educated, excelled me in anything. They could nqt see the talisman I carried in my inner heart. They thought me eager for praise. So I was, but one approving voice was enough for me. And now, what remains ? The question is propounded to me, ‘can you give up all things for my 6ake? Can you leave a father’s hot displeasure, and a rival’s fearful jeal ousy l can you leave this old castle, with its clumps of olive trees —its beautiful river—its ten thousand hallowed associations, and fly with me to Florida ? To-night the question must be decided, and even now, I hear a distant con vent bell, chiming the hour of midnight. It is strange that she who has had but one. dream in life, should start back in fear, when that dream is deepening into a reality. Strange, that Mad.-t ----liue De Orville hesitates when Donee De Leon urges her to fly !’ The Spanish girl bent again her head, and mused. A breeze stole in through the open easement, and rustled the leaves of her chart; the noise, slight as it was, roused the Moorish girl at her feet. * My lady watches late,’ she said as she rubbed her eyes and glanced up at the Alabaster i Lamps —‘she is studying those wearisome maps again, I declare. What is there so interesting connected with those new discoveries that mv lady Madaline need join all Europe, and go mad and blind over them ? True, it is pretty sight to see the Indians which the voyagers sometimes bring homo with them : it was on ly yesterday that I was looking at one just im ported. lie was a tall, copper colored fellow —a noble chap with a pointed face, and rings of gold suspended from his ears and nose. He trod proudly, but I fancy he did not like his new position much, for he said, he would re turn when Donee De Leon goes to colonize the new tract of land just found, over which all Spain is going mad. What is the name of it ? Pshaw'! I have a wretched memory, Florid — yes, Florida, a pretty name by way Isn’t it Madaline ? Yet who but you, would think of studying their eyes out over the map of it ? Not I, forsooth. You ought to have been a navigator,’ and the girl laughed half derisively, and turned upon her side. ‘ And so you w’ere out to the fete yesterday it seems Aleta,’ said Madaline, as if anxious to continue the conversation. * Dray who and what did you see?’ ‘See ! Why, I saw enough to turn one poor lit tle head like mine crazy, I really believe. First came those who are bound to the new world--the colonists I mean. You know’ the Emperor has ! promised Donee De Leon, that he shall be Gov ernor of this new territory, if he will induce colonists enough go with him, to subdue those red rascals who may chance not to fancy such an invasion of their country. Well the colo nists were all out dressed in green and gold marching to the sound of music, and Leon was at their head. A pretty sight it was. Even the Emperor smiled over it.’ ‘ You know 1 >e Leon then V ‘ Know him [ yes, to be sure I do. How can I help knowing him, when Spain is alive over his discoveries. Even Columbus, is not, jut now 7 , a greater personage, and then moreover, have I not seen him with you often ?’ ‘ Yes! Aleta, he used to come here some times, but he never comes now. My father has never liked him since his quarrel witli Colum bus.’ * And there is somebody else, wlio don't fan cy him much, Dm thinking.’ ‘ To whom do you refer, Aleta ?’ ‘ To my brother Alonzo.’ The cheek of the Spanish maiden flushed, and she scanned the face of the Moorish girl at her feet closely, as if she would have read her inner most thought. Aleta betrayed no signs of agi tation. She played carelessly with one of the tassals of her robe and did not look up. ‘ Why does your brother dislike him, Aleta ?’ ‘I don’t know Din sure,’ said the Moor care lessly. ‘Some freak of his I suppose. But why do vou ask ? It seems to me that you have grown strangely interested in this I >e Leon, and his colony of late; have you not Madaline ? It is not possible that you think of joining the ex pedition !’ ‘Why not ?’said the Spanish girl with a care less laugh. ‘They say it is a beautiful country. The air is bland like that of Italy—the trees are perpetual verdure, and strange bright birds make music among their boughs all day long. You know Aleta 1 am a child of romance, and life in Florida will just suit me.’ ‘But the Indians! they will scalp you alive, child.’ ‘ I would not go unless I had a strong arm to lean upon--a ready hand to protect me.’ ‘ And both I suppose have been offered you, by l’once Do Leon the Governor. Is it not so Madaline?’ The girl did not reply. She leaned her head against the casement and looked up at the qui et sky, studded with stars a shade gathered up on the brow of the Moorish girl and her lips were compressed. Aleta was in person a child, but in heart and intellect a woman. A strang er would have been puzzled to have decided exactly w hat her position was in the family of De Qryillo. Sometimesshe addiessed the mem bers of the family with all the deference of a menial—sometimes she took the air of an equal and companion and strove to win their confi dence, and dictate Jo them. She was in fact a dependant upon De Orville’s bounty, for she and her elder brother Al° n * zo had been left in their early years, orphans, indebted to the charity of a cold and unfeeling world for a subsistence. Count De Orville had been influenced to take them into, his family by some act of kindness shown to him in his boy hood by their father. They became the com panions of Madeline his only child. Alonzo, as he grew to manhood, evidently regarded her with sentiments warmer than those of broth erly esteem. But every advance that he made toward winning her love, was repulsed with an earnestness of manner, which would have con vinced one less resolute, wicked and daring, that there were no hopes left of securing her heart. But the wily Moor when he once set his mind upon the accomplishment of an object generally fullfilled his design, either by fair means or foul. It was a knowledge of this trait in his character, that made Madaline dread him as she would have dreaded a viper. The sight of his dark countenance—shaggy -eye brows, and thick set person, always agitated her, and she shrunk from his compauions'aip. Aleta was such achild-like thing, that Madaline could not dread her. She seldom spoke of her brother, but occupied the same apartment with Mada line—sometimes waiting upon her like a servant —sometimes conversing with her like a sister and companion. It may seem strange, but this Moor, repulsive, as he was in person —odious as was his charac - ter, aud poor as he was in worldly possessions was a great favorite with the Count who had adopted him. How he had won such an un bounded influence over her father, Madaline of ten wondered. She would account for it but in one way, and that she hardly dared whisper to herself He was the intimate friend ofVellas, a fttmiliar appointed by the Dominican Friars, to pry into, and bring to the inquisition all per sons suspected of heresy, or disaffection toward the ‘Holy Mother Church.’ No class was fre from danger when the familiars chose tosuspec* and report of them to the Friars, and Count Orville knew this well. Os all, the most dread ed was Vellas, for his avarice and malice incit ed him to many deeds of cruelty. Alonzo had met with this familiar, accidentally, but the simi larity of their characters led them to harmo nize well,and their acquanitance deepened even tually into the closest friendship. It was this in timacy that made Alonzo's anger dreaded the count, and he who had been the depend ant —the succored and the befriended, now had it in his power, viper-like, to sting the bosom that had warmed him into life. Madeline saw plainly, that one of two fates, awaited her--flight with Ponce De Leon to the wilds of Honda, or to become the wife of thi-v wily insidious Moor. Wh f should she hesi tate for a moment ? Ponce De Leon had woed her openly at first, but clandestinely after he. had excited by his quarrel with Columbus, her father's displeasure, and now he urged her to fly. He was her senior by many years, but she loved him. In the wilds of the new world she felt that she would be happy were he by her side, and as she looked up at the quiet skv v her resolution become fixed. She resolved tu leave behind her all the familiar geenes of her childhood, and to fly to the happy land, a rep resentation of which, drawn by the discoverer’s hand, lay in her lap. Perhaps the Moorish giri read her thoughts and intentions, in her face, for as she gazed, the shadow grew darker upon her low brow, and the thin lips more compress ed. She did not speak, but lay perfectly still at the feet of Madaline. Soon she closed her eyes, and apparently relapsed into deep slum ber. Madaline arose softly, and glided across the room, she seated herself at a small rosewood desk, in one corner, and with the point of her pencil, traced upon a slip of paper the words : ‘ -Dear Leon , my decision is made. Meet me at half past seven to-morrow night, in the gard en of the Convent of San Jose. I shall then be ready to fly with you, whithersover vou will. Beware of my father, and Alonzo. 1? we are intercepted by the latter, the gloomiest dungeon of the inquisition, may receive us both. Briefly, yet most tenderly yours, * Madaline De Orville. Her letter finished, she folded it, and hidiug it in the folds of her dress, she threw herself, upon her couch, and slept. Her breathing grew deep—.her cheek flushed—and her iip tre mulous. In her dreams she had already bidden an adieu to the shores of Spain. There was one eye that watched this slumber. Aleta, had stealthily approached the couch, and now stood leaning over her. She drew from her dress the letter, aud pausing beneath a lamp, read it tq the end. A smile came to her lip—a malicious smile which few perhaps could have intrepreted. She mo\ed slowly towards the desk, and seizing the pencil carefully erased the w ord ‘seven’ and above it wrote ‘nine.’ It was but a single word and the erasure doubtless would not be noticed by the writer. She then carefully replaced it; aud turning glided out of the room. V\ hen Madaline awoke, the sun was up, and every body, about the castle was astir. She felt for her letter—it was safe in her pocket and at the foot of her couch set the Moorish girl, bu sy over some embroidery which she was exe cuting on a cloth designed as a covering to the altar ot a church. She arose and bathing her her face and hands iu a silver bowl, which stood on a taole at the head of her couch, she sum moned, Cora, her waiting maid, to rearrange her disordered apparel and sinoth her hair. ’ \ou slept late,’ said Aleta looking up with a smile from her work. ‘I have wrought two, flowers since daylight, and she held up “the fab;, lie, richly embroidered with golden threads. This is better than setting, up with the owls, and studying maps—your practice to the con trary notwithstanding,’ and a merry, musical laugli burst from her lips. ‘I did something more than study maps,’ re plied the Spanish girl carelessly.’ I letter, and here, Cora,’ she continued ‘seal aud 1 send it away for me—the courier wijj be here! in an hour.’ ‘ A love-letter I'll wager my bead’ said the Moor laughing still more musically than before., A lo\e letter or you would have chosen so unseasonable an hour, in which, tp,hare in dited it.’. ‘\ ou had better not wager so. vduable a. thing*! mean, so valuable to jonrsaif, on such a frivioloos occasion. Ido not often write love letters,, said Madaline, carelessly. ‘Cora order my breakfast.’ It seemed to the eager, nervous, expectant Spanish girl, that that apparently endless day, would never draw to a close. Aleta said Rule. She worked upon the altar piece with indefati gable zeal and industry. But at last, daylight deepened into darkness. Ihe Cuadalquiver again danced on the moonlight, and the leaves ot the olive trees were gemmed with dew. Madaline received her mothers portrait, atuf a few valuable articles of jewelry, and then glided out to the Convent of Sail Jose, with quick, yet quiet steps. She was animated but. by one thought, aud that was that she was Jcav iug behind her, Alonzo the Moor. As she came close to. the convent wall, she be held in the deep shadow of an olive tree, a dis guised and mantled form. Her heart beat quick, and her steps faltered for a moment. But sha summoned resolution and again proceeded. 4 1 >eflr Madaline,’ said a voice low and appar ently disguised ; ‘are you ready to fly with rnel My Ships sails in two days for Florida—* \\ T e can in that time roach the coast, and elude pursuit. Mada'ine placed her hand confidently in that of her lover, and mounting a swift steed (Rat stood in w aiting, rode silently—almost breath lessly by his side. He did not speak to her, but seemed animated by one desire only, and that was, by the utmost speed, to elude pursuit. Hour after hour, but still there was no resting point reached—the moon became enveloped in clouds, and the road they were pursuing, led into a dark dismal forest. But the heart of the Spanish maiden was brave with love and hope ‘I see in the dim light his form,’ she said to fc{u.- self, ‘could I but hear his voice, I should be sat isfied.’ But Ponce De Leon neither turned nor spoke. He held the bridle reiu ftfber Rquei fast in liis hand, and both steeds seemed to have borrowed the wings of the wind. At length the grey light of morning stole up from i the East. It come faintly at first, but grew 1 brighter and brighter as the day-god approach ed the horizon. It seemed to Madalme that, the form of Ponce De I.con baijgrown \ oqth NO. 12,